Heroic
by Eerps
Summary: Alfred likes most movies, but generally not the ones which make him ponder the nature of his being.


Alfred liked a lot of movies. He had a real thing for them, in fact. Mostly he liked action movies – Indiana Jones being a long-standing favorite – but as long as it came on a big enough screen, he could watch pretty much anything and be happy about it. Even romantic comedies that he would generally rather die than be caught seeing. Although he'd never admit it, some of Arthur's… er… masculine pride? Stodginess? A bit of both? Well, some of that really _had_ rubbed off, and he couldn't just wantonly enjoy whatever he liked the way Francis or even Matthew did.

Appearances. That was the word. Watching Julia Roberts wasn't very image-appropriate, although he'd never suffered the indignity of actually tearing up during one of those films. The closest he'd ever come to humiliating film-related crying was Bambi, and shut up, because having your warm and distantly-remembered mother die and then getting stuck with some cold, aloof jerk who wouldn't know affection if it jumped up and bit him in the ass was _sad_, okay?

You had no soul if you didn't think it was sad.

Matthew bawled like a friggin' baby when _he_ saw it.

Anyways, the point was that even though he generally loved films in every shape and form they came in, he tended to prefer the action-oriented ones. There was nothing like a good fight scene. He generally liked to stay away from historical films, though, mostly because they had a habit of stirring up memories. That left him with a lot of science fiction and fantasy type stuff, actually – but that was just fine by him. Fight scenes which were enough to get the blood pumping but not so realistic as to conjure up bad thoughts were the best compromise in his opinion.

With one exception, of course.

Arthur had been digging through his movie collection when he found it, hunting for something to distract them from the argument that had left them both grumbling at each other under their breaths. Alfred had wondered what was taking so long, but apparently it was a quest for something which didn't have Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Harrison Ford in it. Or Sylvester Stallone. Or some kind of super hero.

It was a tough hunt, made tougher by the fact that Alfred kept his less 'heroic' movies in a drawer upstairs in his room.

"What's this one?" Arthur finally asked in an absent-minded way, producing a case from the back of the shelf and turning it over in his hand.

Alfred recognized the cover immediately.

"Not that one!" he said, standing up and whipping it out of the older nation's grasp before he could think twice about it.

Arthur looked at him, blinking for a moment and caught off-guard by the sudden whirlwind of movement.

"Oh, god, it's not one of… _those_ kinds of films, is it?" he asked.

"What, you mean like Benny Hill?" Alfred immediately retorted, again before he could think twice about the response. Shit. He shouldn't have done that. Now Arthur wouldn't just let it go – he should have just said it was porn. That would have gotten him off the hook.

The older nation's eyes narrowed in annoyance. There was a pause. Then he lunged towards Alfred, reaching for the case which Alfred, in turn, kept out of his reach, holding it high above his head with one hand and fending Arthur off with the other. Super strength – you had to love it. Unfortunately, he got a little cocky about the whole thing, and was completely unprepared for the kick which connected with the back of his knee. It was followed sharply by a sucker punch to his kidney, and he remembered that, oh yeah, Alfred could be kind of badass in a fight when he was angry enough. The movie was promptly snatched out of his hand.

Alfred made a choked sound of protest, rubbing his side. "Give it!" he immediately demanded.

Arthur snorted, raising one considerable eyebrow at him and dodging his attempt to grab it back. He read the title out loud.

"_Highlander_?" he asked questioningly. "What the devil is so embarrassing about this? It doesn't look any different from your usual tripe. Or is it as bad as that godawful 'Braveheart' film?"

"Hey, that movie's legit. I asked Scotland. He said you were totally an enormous dick to him," Alfred argued.

"Yes, well. He _would_," Arthur replied flippantly, and then his mouth moved a little as he began to read the summary on the back of the case, eyebrows furrowing in obvious confusion. "…I still don't see why you'd be bothered by this. What's wrong with it?" he insisted on asking.

"_Nothing_. Look, I'll find something else. I think I've got some Monty Python around her somewhere." He set about trying to find it, and as he did Alfred quietly walked over to the television. It was only as he heard the distinctive sound of the film's music that he realized what had happened, and whipped around.

"No," he said immediately, stalking over to the player. "We're not watching this."

"I want to see what it is about it that you dislike so much!"

"You won't even get it!" Alfred insisted. Thus began a brief wrestling match in front of the screen, as he attempted to reach for the buttons and Arthur attempted to stop him. He was ready for it this time, though, and handily thwarted the Englishman, locking him to his side with one arm and then reaching over and shutting off the movie with the other.

Arthur left in a huff after that, simmering with the deep embarrassment and anger which he always had when he lost a fight, and spouting about stubbornness and stupidity and yadda yadda. His usual deal. Alfred saw him out and then stood behind the closed door for a moment, waiting and feeling relieved that the crisis had been averted. With a sigh he leaned forward. His head pressed against the cool wood of the closed door.

The reason why he didn't like that film actually had nothing to do with England, or Scotland, or the trippy electrical sword-fights.

It was just… most of the time he could forget about _what_ he was and simply be _who_ he was. And usually when things reminded him of the reality of his world, it was only in a distant sort of way. But the truth was that he – that all of them – weren't so very different from the immortals portrayed in that film. Oh, obviously there _were_ differences, but… well, for some moments it was possible to pretend that they weren't all trying to destroy each other.

And they weren't. Not… not most of the time.

Except that even though they felt human and acted human and passed for human, they weren't humans. They were nations, and no matter how much they wanted human relationships with each other from time to time, those couldn't really exist between them. Two nations which got along too closely would inevitably become _one_ nation, for example – if the discord between them vanished then so would their distinctiveness as independent entities, and so both would die and something new would be born from it. Even finding ways around it, like Austria and Hungary's marriage, either dissolved or met that fate.

Then, on the other hand, the alliances and friendships they _did_ make were all such loose threads. Humans… humans could love someone else enough to die for them. But nations weren't like that. One nation wouldn't die for another, _couldn't_ die for another – they had to preserve themselves. It was the strongest driving force within them. No nation would willingly suffer the fate of death. It didn't matter who it was, how long they'd known them, or how much they cared about them. If it came down to one or the other, if say Matthew and Francis had to choose which one of them would survive, they'd both inevitably choose themselves. That was just how it _worked_. They were immortal. Even when they had 'children' it wasn't anything like how human children came about, and they certainly didn't need partners to procreate – they didn't even need to procreate _at all_, since all of their life spans were potentially indefinite.

Having children (not to be confused with _appropriating_ them, the way Arthur tended to, for example) meant that you were dying.

And, of course, they all tried to kill each other fairly often. Even now there were nations he was fighting. It was part of the struggle. When we they weren't fighting each other they were dominating one another, each of them obeying that one basic, irresistible mandate to secure their individual survivals for as long as possible.

_In the end, there can be only one_.

It wasn't really true in their cases, but very often it felt like it. In the beginning part of the film, when the main character was being taught by his fellow immortal, and the kill or be killed and lonely nature of their existence came to light… Alfred hated that. He hated it because it put it right there, in the spotlight, that no matter how close they may become or how much they might play at being human, they were all on their own.

They'd all throw each other under busses, given enough incentive.

Heroes weren't supposed to do that, though. Heroes were the people who sacrificed _themselves_ rather than see the ones they loved get killed. He knew that. He'd seen it in almost all of his movies. But that could never be him, because the very thought of letting himself die – even for the ones he cared about more than anyone else in the whole world – was unfathomable.

And if that were true, then…

He let his thoughts drift off, hoping to send them floating away so that the hard feelings of unease would pass. Curling one hand into a fist, he pounded half-heartedly against the door. _Dammit, Arthur. Stupid movie_, he thought, hating it when he felt like this. This self-hatred which ripped through him like a knife.

Almost dejectedly, he pushed himself back into the hall. Maybe he _should_ have just let Arthur watch it. The damage seemed to be done already. With a heavy sigh he dumped the movie back onto its shelf – he should just throw it out, really, but he couldn't ever seem to – and decided to call it a night. By morning the unease would pass, and he'd be able to forget it again.

But for now the words he couldn't let himself think kept tugging at the back of his mind, dragging him down.

_If you can't ever care about anything more than you care about yourself, then how can you be a hero?_


End file.
